The quiet things that no one ever knows
by jalice-carter
Summary: Awesome song btw . Bobby and Jack. Not slash. Read/Review.
1. The quiet things that no one ever knows

Listen to some Brand New when you read this. If you haven't heard of them, shame on you.

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"Come on you piece of shit." That's what he constantly heard in the back of his doesn't matter that he has a new family, that this family constantly tells him those things that happened to him don't define him, don't make him tainted. He still feels that way, will continue to feel that way, until he finally feels nothing. Until he can't feel a damn thing. Until he slips into oblivion. He thinks to himself of all those times he told himself he would finally fight back, that tonight would be that night. That tonight would finally be the night he grew a fucking backbone. But that never happened. He continued to suffer, to tell himself that today will me that day…maybe.

Today was never the day for him though. He was always caught off guard. _Always._

It didn't matter if he would try to stay up all night, he would always find himself being woken up from a slumber he didn't remember slipping into. "Shh…don't make a fucking noise." It was always the same greeting. _Always._

It didn't matter what day or how intoxicated that piece of shit was.

_Never_. He told himself the first time.

Never would he allow himself that feeling of comfort of sleep. It wasn't much of a comfort anymore anyway.

So he stopped eating the meals he would prepare for him, but couldn't eat at school either. They wouldn't give him lunch money. So he scrounged when he could. _This home was probably the worst_ he thought idly. _Even worse than that old lady, she forgot he was there._

The only reason anyone noticed was because one day at school he wouldn't sit down. Until finally he passed out from lack of food and exhaustion.

_That's the only reason anyone ever actually looked me over_ he thought bitterly. Why would these people be any different? It's always the same. The novelty wears off as soon as the worker leaves. _Always_.

The boy is so deep in thought he doesn't realize he has an audience. Not that he would interrupt the boy's thoughts; he obviously had needed to do some contemplating. He just didn't like where the boy had chosen to do it. He didn't trust the look he had when he excused himself, _politely_, after dinner.

In the two weeks he had been staying with them he had been nothing close to polite. That's why he didn't trust it.

Never trust that glint and the changing of actions, the man had learned that the hard way. _Never._

And as the man watches the boy it clicks. _Everything._

Every odd thing this boy does. Every mannerism he thinks he hides so well this man firmly understands. As soon as it clicks he is disgusted. But not at the boy. He feels slightly dirty for watching the boy in his private moment, deep in thought.

As soon as he hears the intake of breathe he knows he's not alone. He knows someone's watching him. In this moment he tried to have by himself. But it's okay, he doesn't mind, not really. That way when they come to see why, the family can say they tried everything, didn't see the signs, just thought he wasn't warming up to the _family,_ but that he would, slowly but surely. He just hopes it's not the burly man that's in the door frame. He reminded him of a small version of a lumberjack. But only vertically smaller. That thought did not comfort him though. But the thought that did was that it wasn't the woman. He didn't want that on her conscience. Even though deep down, under the hard exterior he built up, he would feel sorry for her, because it would be, a constant reminder in this house. But he didn't let that bother him too much. He turned around slowly to stare at the man who was invading this private event in his life.

As soon as he looked in the boys eyes, he knew. He knew what this boy, barely having a good memory in his hard, short, but excruciatingly long time on this Earth was planning. He ran forward as soon as he saw the slight backward lean of the boy's body. "JACKIE! NO!"

As the boy started to lean back out of the window he heard the man yell his name and run. Run forward. The serene smile on his lisps suddenly vanished as soon as he felt the hand on his wrist. Only this time it didn't make him think of him, that poor excuse for a human he was supposed to call his father. It got a completely different reaction. One neither one was expecting.

"Bobby…" the man heard a weak voice say before the body he had just prevented from performing a backward swan dive out of the window came back in the window. When he pulled the body back in, he expected violence. Kicking. Screaming. Hitting. Slapping.

Anything than what happened.

A small body crushed into him and was shaking. He could feel his shirt getting wet, but at this moment he didn't really give a shit. The small boy needed this. He would always let him have this. _Always._

He would let him because he couldn't empathize with this case.

Sure he could and did sympathize but he couldn't truly empathize. He honestly, a small voice in the back of his head said, hoped he never would be able to. But god damn it, he would sympathize for the small boy who had already seen and been subjected to so much more than he deserved to be.

"Shh…" he told him. "It's okay, let it out. Let it all out. You can tell me anything when you feel ready."

And those were the last words either of them was expecting from Bobby Mercer's mouth.

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A/N: sorry if that confused you. It's going back and forth in Jack's head and Bobby's head. Just thoughts.. Review? for now it's complete. Unless you want more....? if not that's cool, just let me know.


	2. The Warmth

A/N: This time, its an Incubus song. :) So I seriously love everyone that reviewed, really. My e-mail wasn't letting me reply to your reviews though and neither was fan fiction? I would really like to thank **mower200** though…like 200 times thank you. Seriously, that made my month…and **sisterdear** : ) yours too. Well, actually all 4 of you, that sounds so mean not to thank everyone...**Daisy** I loved that you acknowledged Brand New! You were the only one... : ( and **tearsXsolitude** I felt mean writing it, but I think it made a good story : ) and on a side note, whenever I read fan fiction that has Jack young, I always picture a tiny Garrett Hedlund. Just throwing that out there…

_Damn it._ He thought. _Why did these people have to act nice…_It would just make it ten times harder for him when he did decide to leave. Because he would you know. He'd leave. He'd leave before they could "return him." Although the old lady wasn't bad, he didn't have anything against her, not really, he mused, it was just it was _always_ the same. No matter what he did, what he tried not to do, what he made absolutely sure not to do, they'd always say he did something wrong. Or his personal favorite, they couldn't deal with him. He was too damaged for their home. How do you become "too damaged"? He wondered. Well apparently he'd figured out that answer. But he just didn't realize it. _Great,_ here comes that big idiot…now he'd have to fight him just so he could leave…

This wasn't turning out the way he'd thought it would. And maybe if he'd stop to think about the fact that he would have to fight someone so they'd let him leave, he would have come to the conclusion a lot faster. That maybe someone cared. He would never say this out loud…but the thought was already there…just nagging at him, like someone who just won't stop trying to tell you a story and when you finally give them the chance, they tell you "never mind." He didn't have to vocalize it, but was damn annoying.

When he started up the stairs he wasn't really sure why. Sure the kid had kind of grown on him, sure they had kind of bonded, but really, he hadn't done much to solidify himself in their family. He'd done exactly what was asked of him. No less. No more.

He couldn't really blame him though. Not really. It wasn't his fault that he, the Michigan Mauler, was too busy. _Too busy for a little kid…Really_? That even sounded weak to him. _Actually,_ he thought_, it sounded like a jackass thing to say._ He wasn't proud of it. He hadn't really done much to _help_ solidify the kid into the family like his mom had asked him to. So he resumed the short trek up the stairs to talk to the kid after yet another weird dinner. He didn't get the same vibes as he had last time, but still it was off. It bugged him that no one but himself had caught on to the kid's weird mannerisms. But really it wasn't that surprising. Except for maybe his mom. He thought maybe she would have caught on.

_Well…time to stop this mind fucked kid __again_. He tried to keep the scorn out of his voice at the thought of it always being him talking to this kid.

_Well shit._ He could _feel_ this guy looking at him. It no longer bothered him. And if he was honest he had two feelings on that fact. He secretly liked that he didn't mind that this guy was watching him. Granted he hoped it was watching out for him and not some creepy way that he was all too familiar with for his liking. And he was mad at it. He was mad that he had become comfortable with these people. These _too_ nice of people. He was sick of their act. Only one person bothered to talk to him, and that was usually in a grunting fashion, so did it really count as talking at all? Ah, but now I'm digressing, he thought. This isn't how it was in every other house. Every other place no one cared enough to come and make sure he wasn't doing anything too dumb. No one even bothered to grunt at him…there may have been grunting, but it wasn't good. _Now look at what I'm thinking about. Great._ He stopped what he was doing then because it didn't feel right anymore.

When he stopped what he was doing he knew he was caught. The kid knew he was watching. _Well shit. I hope I don't make him uncomfortable. Then again, he gets uncomfortable when people touch him. No hugs for ma'._ And then it struck him odd that he cared what this kid thought of him. He cared if he thought he was some creep. _Which I'm __NOT_. He thought vehemently. He just cared. And when he didn't try to kick him or hit him it just struck him as odd again. And he knew, this kid is thinking. He's so lost in his own head he really doesn't remember why he started packing in the first place. And Bobby thinks that this is ultimately a good thing. He's glad he's stopped packing and is contemplating something. As long as he's thinking, he's not running, and if he's not running, then I know where this kid is. And Bobby doesn't find it strange that he _needs_ to know where this kid is so he can have some peace-of-mind. So he may check on him before he turns in every night, but it just feels right for him to do that.

He realizes the guy is not going anywhere so he stops packing. Why he started isn't so clear in his mind anymore. What does become clear is how much he knows about these people. That they aren't pretending. These people are really _that_ nice. He's a little annoyed with that fact at first. After all, is it really fair that this lady has been here all along and he's _just now_ getting to live with her? Why not before all that other shit? _Because Jackie, life is not fair. You should know that by now._ As he continues contemplating things he comes to another startling revelation. He _likes _these people. He likes that Bobby's communication skills consist of grunts, he likes that Jerry is so well put together, and is practically a grown up already in his mid-life crises mode, he likes Angel, because…well, he's nice to him. Even if he doesn't engage him in conversation he's nice. Jack has a sinking feeling that it's because he knows what he's been through. Not just read it in a file, but can somewhat relate. Not to all of it, but to most. And that is comforting. He likes them, and they, they like him. He almost falls down when he has that epiphany. So all he does when Bobby comes over to unpack his things to put them back in the dresser is sit on the floor Indian style and watch for a while.

Then after he's done, he does something that neither of them expected but Jack had secretly wanted to do; to anyone really, it didn't matter, as long as it was a familial one.

He hugged him.

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So I wrote this pretty early, be kind, rewind, and review? :)


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